


little changes

by kuroopaisen



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Atsumu is a little shit, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, and they were ROOMMATES, but i like that they let me ramble, i still don't know how to use ao3 tags, mature doesn't feel like the right tag for it but neither does teens and up, oh well, osamu is here too sometimes, slowburn, that's all i write dflskjfd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:01:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24765844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuroopaisen/pseuds/kuroopaisen
Summary: miya atsumu is the bane of your existence. but, that means different things at different times of your life.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Reader, Miya Atsumu/You
Comments: 41
Kudos: 539





	1. Chapter 1

The first time you’d met, he’d pushed you into a puddle.

“Slow down!” You yelled, chest heaving as you tried to catch up to the two boys ahead of you. Even at seven years old, their legs were significantly longer than yours.

The twins scrambled to a stop, looking over their shoulders at you.

“Hurry up!” Atsumu yapped. “If you can’t keep up, we’re gonna leave you behind.”

“That’s unfair!” You pouted, stumbling to a stop in front of them. “You can’t just leave me out!”

Atsumu stared at you for a moment.

One clean shove, and you were on your butt, muck and water splashing up around you.

“What’d you do that for?” You yapped, looking up at the boy with a glare strong enough to kill a god.

“You were bein’ annoyin’.”

“Hey!”

“That’s not cool, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu sighed, holding out a hand to you.

Atsumu shrugged, letting out a long, exaggerated yawn.

That was the day you decided that Miya Atsumu was your arch-nemesis.

Not much had changed since that day. Miya Atsumu was, to put it lightly, the bane of your existence.

Middle school brought him no maturity. If anything, he got _worse_. He treated you like a nuisance, your friendship with Osamu be damned. But unfortunately, the two of them were rarely apart. And apparently being around you was better than being bored.

“You can’t spike a ball for shit,” he mumbled, shaking his head at you.

“Oi, language!”

“Shuddup,” he rolled his eyes, turning his back to you. “You’re so borin’.”

He always called you that. Boring.

You glared at him, clenching your fists. You were just trying to play along with them. Sure, your volleyball skills left something to be desired. But Osamu didn’t mind. And you wanted to play with your friend, his shitstain of a brother be damned.

“Yeah, well–” You sucked in your breath, trying to think of something very cruel – but not profane, because you’re only eleven and swearing is one of the _worst_ things you could do – to say to him. “You’re a bastard!”

He looked over his shoulder at you, one eyebrow raised. Did his silence spell your victory?

“Pig.”

Nope. 

That was just the first of many monikers Miya Atsumu gave to you. He had so many, in fact, that it seemed he was allergic to calling you by your name. Pig seemed to be a particular favourite.

But, you always prided yourself on being tough. It took more than a few paltry words to do some real damage to you. And you were determined to not let Atsumu get the upper hand.

And yet, some days he did. They were rare, but they stung like nothing else. It was the days he got possessive. The days he told you to piss off, that _he_ wanted to hang out with Osamu and he didn’t want you there to ruin it.

You told yourself that it didn’t matter. That you couldn’t care less what he thought of you. But it wasn’t enough to shift that awful little feeling that came with being told you were unwanted.

“Don’t listen to him,” Osamu sighed, hand clumsily patting your back. “He’s just… like that. He sucks.”

You sniffed, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. “Yeah.”

You were just mad at yourself for crying. Thankfully, Atsumu had stalked off before you’d crumpled. But still. You’d let him get to you. You were better than that, right? Better than _him_.

“I still like you,” Osamu swallowed, fumbling with the right words to say in a situation like this. “I’ll beat him up for you, if you want.”

You shook your head, a little too vigorously. “Nah, I don’t want you to get into a fight with your brother because of me.”

That’s what it came down to, really. The feeling that you were in the way of something important. Of something that mattered more than you. The spiteful look Atsumu would shoot you whenever Osamu spent time with you instead of him hurt most.

Osamu shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine. I really want an excuse to deck him in the face sometimes.”

You giggled at that. It was the first time you’d smiled all day. “Thanks, 'Samu.”

——–

With each year that passed, Miya Atsumu seemed to get worse. And with each year that passed, you were _baffled_.

How could someone have such a garbage personality? And worse yet, why was he blessed with such immense talent? You weren’t an idiot, and you weren’t the sort to deny credit when it was due. The twins were _good_. You knew jack-shit about volleyball – you’d sworn off it ever since Atsumu had been such a bastard about it – but you knew enough to know they were impressive.

They were just first years, but they were already on the starting line-up of the volleyball team. And you were quite proud of Osamu for that. It was nice to see other people recognising his talents. He’d been humble enough about it, too. Atsumu was another matter, but you’d developed something of a talent for tuning him out. So long as he wasn’t insulting you directly, you could ignore him quite well. Life was much better for it.

The only _bad_ thing about Osamu joining the volleyball team was the fact that he now hung out with them. Which wasn’t a _problem,_ per say; you were welcome to join, and they were all cordial enough. No, the issue was that sometimes spoke about girls. And nothing was more infuriating than hearing teenage boys advise one another on how to impress girls.

“You’re saying I should just… ignore her?” One of the second years frowned at one of the older boys.

“Yeah,” the third year nodded. “If you ignore her, she’ll get all anxious about it, and she’ll keep thinkin’ about you.”

“Huh,” the second year nodded, blinking slowly. “Isn’t that kind of… I dunno… mean?”

“Very,” you mumbled.

“Huh?”

“If you do that, you’ll seem like an asshole. Girls don’t like guys like that,” you sighed, head rested on Osamu’s knee as you looked up at the sky.

Hanging out with the volleyball team wasn’t high on your list of favourite activities. But, you had nothing better to do.

“I thought girls liked 'bad boys’,” one of the third years laughed.

“I don’t wanna make any generalisations,” you shrugged. “But it’s better if you’re friends first. So you’ve gotta be nice to her.”

You had absolutely no experience to speak of. But it seemed like the right thing to say.

“You’re only saying that because you’ve got a thing for Osamu.”

You hadn’t planned on a murder today. But Suna had just changed your plans.

“Do not,” you mumbled, shutting your eyes. _Don’t bite back_ , you thought to yourself. _If you bite back, they’ll just tease you more._

You’d actually thought about it, once. You were sixteen, after all, and ready to yearn. But, as hard as you’d tried to convince yourself that you felt something more for Osamu had fallen flat. The thought of kissing him made you laugh, when it should’ve made you blush. You hadn’t mentioned that to him, though. Having a girl laugh at the thought of intimacy with you was probably at least a little humiliating, regardless of who she was.

“You’re lying on him as we speak,” one of the team snickered.

“Because I’m tired.” You opened one eye to take a glance at the team. You took a moment to visualise punching them all in the face, one by one. It was almost rhapsodic. “You all suck.”

“You’re not even good enough for 'Samu, anyway.”

Oh _. Oh_.

You bolted upright, glare immediately honing in _on him_. “Excuse me?”

Atsumu raised an eyebrow at you. “So you think you’re good enough for him?”

You opened your mouth to reply. Fuck, you didn’t have anything snappy to say. Was strangling him out of the question? Oh God, you could feel your face growing redder by the second. You needed to _do something_ –

“Oi, don’t use me as an excuse to make fun of her,” Osamu sighed. “You don’t really think that highly of me.”

“That’s cold, 'Samu,” Atsumu grimaced. “You really think I’d be okay with you datin’ thiscow?”

“What did you just call me?”

“Do you like it more when I call you a pig?”

“What on earth gave you that idea, you bastard?" 

Osamu rolled his eyes as the tirade began. Not a day went by without something like this happening. Atsumu said something contrarian, and you exploded like a little firecracker. You weren’t the sort to start fights, usually. But there was something about Atsumu that always managed to get under your skin.

He’d hoped that finally entering high school would’ve taught Atsumu how to behave. He should’ve known to be wiser than to indulge himself in some wishful thinking.

"Does he always provoke her?” Aran asked, frowning.

Osamu nodded. “Uh huh. He gets a kick out of it.”

“Hmm,” Aran nodded, “knowing everything I do about Atsumu, that makes perfect sense.”

“I keep tellin’ her not to respond. It just eggs him on.”

“Well, I guess it’s kinda hard not to,” Aran shrugged.

Osamu sighed. “Y'know, sometimes I just wish they’d get along.”

Aran laughed, shaking his head. “Sorry man, can’t see that happening any time soon.”

——–

Being a teenager fucking sucked.

Getting dumped by an admittedly shitty boyfriend might’ve been some kind of rite of passage, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. You’d tried to count your blessings, small as they may be. At least he hadn’t dumped you over text, right?

Maybe it would’ve been better if he _had_ dumped you over text. That would’ve given you a few hours at _least_ to pull yourself together. Instead, he’d pulled you aside just before class had started, telling you that he was done with you. He hadn’t even given you the chance to speak.

And then you’d had to walk into class and pretend everything was okay. A whole school day was far too long to try and pretend you had it together.

Behind the gym was the only place you’d managed to find the silence in which to mourn. You would’ve gone and cried in the bathroom if you could, but there was always _someone_ in there. You didn’t want to make a scene. And surely, nobody would come behind the gym.

“Oi.”

Oh, _fuck_.

“What do you want?” You mumbled, lacking the courage to look at him.

“I was just tryin’ to clear my head before practice,” he said. “What’re you doin’ out here?”

"None of your business,” you sniffed, your shoulders hunched and your fists scrunching the fabric of your skirt.

He sat down.

No. No, no, no.

“So,” he cleared his throat, not quite looking at you. “I heard about… your ex.”

“Great,” you sniffed, rubbing your nose with the back of your hand. It’d already reached Atsumu? How much did he know?

“Are you… alright?” His voice was quiet, unsure.

“What do you think?” You hissed, drawing your knees up to your chest.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just, uh… you’ve seemed kinda off today.”

You shot him a look.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I just…” He sighed, hanging his head.

You pressed your lips together, trying to sift through the jumble of thoughts in your mind. It wasn’t that you’d expected your relationship with that asshole to last. Far from it. You just hadn’t expected it to go… like this. Not after he’d taken so much from you.

“It’s just that–” The words escaped from you with a hitched breath. “It’s just that… I gave him a lot, you know?” You took a deep breath. You weren’t about to admit everything to fucking _Atsumu_ of all people. But you just wanted to _talk._ To put the pain into words. “And he didn’t have the decency to… to treat me with respect. He… He…”

“Did he hurt you?” Atsumu’s tone was sharp; sharper than you’d ever heard it. He still wasn’t looking directly at you. If anything, that was a small comfort.

“Not physically or anything,” you shook your head, relaxing your fists. “It’s just that he… he treated me like shit. And… and I liked him more than I should’ve, I know that, but…”

You made a valiant effort at swallowing the lump in your throat. “It just fucking sucks, you know?”

You don’t know why you’re telling him all this. You’d already said more than you’d wanted to. But damn, did it feel good to get it off your chest.

Did you seem a bit pathetic? Fuck it. Atsumu already thought poorly of you. Letting him see you like this wouldn’t be a massive hit to your pride.

And, to his credit, he’s listening. You think.

“I think–” You sniffed, taking a deep breath. This was the worst part of all. “I think he’s been hooking up with Eiko. Or, at least, he’s been trying to.”

“What, really?” Oh, he’d looked pissed. You’d never seen this amount vitriol in his face before. Not even when he was arguing with you.

“Yeah.” You nodded weakly. You knew it probably wasn’t Eiko’s fault. And even if she had 'seduced’ him, he’d still chosen to dump you over it. You just didn’t have the energy to direct your anger at anyone but him.

“Fuckin’ piece of shit,” he grumbled. You could see him clenching his fists. You’d never thought he’d get _this_ angry on your behalf. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“Don’t.” You nearly reached over to grab his arm. But, you didn’t. “Please, I just… I just want this to pass, okay? I don’t want to create a mess.”

Atsumu stared at you for one long moment. You knew he was weighing up whether or not he should listen to you. Then, he sighed. “Fine.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. You didn’t know what to say, now.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, finally meeting your gaze, “if he tries anythin’ with you, lemme know, okay?”

You blinked, your own brow just as furrowed as his.

“He’s a pig,” he grunted, “and… and you deserve better than that, 'kay?”

You stared at him. Had those words really just come from _his_ mouth? “I thought I was the pig.”

Atsumu said nothing. He doesn’t know _what_ to say. You’d never really interacted like this before. Without the barbs.

He wanted to say that, even though he makes fun of you all the time, you _matter._ Frankly, he doesn’t really know what he’d do if you weren’t there for him to pick on. He’s used to you being around, you know? That bred at least a little fondness. And the thought that someone had genuinely, actually hurt you pissed him off.

But he doesn’t say any of that. Because he doesn’t know how to. Hell, he doesn’t even know what that _means_.

“I, uh,” he cleared his throat, standing to his feet. “I’ve gotta get back to practice.”

He wants to tell you to text him if you need anything. But, he doesn’t think that’ll be very comforting, coming from him. So, he walked away.

“Hey, uh, Miya?”

He stopped in his tracks, just as surprised as you were. You never called him by his name.

“Could you, uh… could you keep this between us?” You asked, your throat alarmingly dry. “I’d rather 'Samu didn’t know about this. I’m worried that… that he might do something stupid.”

Atsumu looked over his shoulder at you. It’s a small moment, a quiet one.

He just shrugs. “'Kay.”

The next time you’re watching them play, you’re not just cheering for Osamu.

——–

It’s over. Finally.

And you couldn’t be more relieved.

Of course, you were going to miss your friends. And of course, all the changes that were about to come your way were fucking terrifying.

But high school sucked. And being a teenager sucked. You couldn’t wait to move on from all of that. To make a real person of yourself. And you were going to Tokyo. _Tokyo_. You’d always lived in Hyogo; the thought of living somewhere so vastly different was downright exhilarating.

But before all that, you had to survive your goodbyes. You’d made it through the graduation ceremony well enough; in truth, you’d zoned out a little.

But now you were all outside, and it was finally time to say goodbye for good. And quite frankly, you hadn’t expected to be so emotional. Honestly, you were just proud of yourself for keeping it together. Nobody else was crying – yet – and you’d be damned if you were the first person to lose composure.

You’d managed to say goodbye to most of your friends with a smile, and you’d even bid farewell to your beloved literature teacher without getting too miserable. Surely, there wouldn’t be too many people left to see.

A flash of grey and yellow at your right.

Oh no. You had to speak to Osamu. That’d do it.

“Oi!” You called out, hurdling towards him.

Osamu turned around, raising a hand at you. Atsumu glanced in your direction, but he made no effort to greet you. Asshole.

“C'mere,” Osamu smiled, opening his arms up.

You threw yourself into them, wrapping your arms around his neck as you supported yourself on your tip-toes. He smiled, chuckling in your ear. Good God, you were going to miss him.

“We did it,” you smiled, squeezing him tight.

“Somehow.” It was subtle, but you could feel the joy in his voice.

“Good job on getting into TSUJI,” you beamed, dropping down as he released you from his grasp.

“Thanks,” he smiled, reaching a hand up and ruffling your hair. “University of Tokyo’s nothin’ to sniff at, you know.”

You blushed, despite yourself. “Yeah, well…”

“Stop bein’ so humble,” he said, punching you gently in the shoulder. “Make me proud, you hear?”

“You too.”

And that’s enough. That’s all you need to say. He wasn’t big on words, and that was okay. It had always been okay. You knew that you guys would stay friends. Even if everyone else fell away, if you drifted from all these people you held close… you knew you’d have 'Samu.

You heard a voice calling you. You straightened your shoulders, looking up at Osamu resolutely. “I’ll see you this weekend, yeah?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, nodding at you.

You smiled back, feeling that persistent sting at the corners of your eyes. Your eyes flicked over to Atsumu for just a moment. He’d turned away from you once you’d thrown your arms around Osamu, opting instead to speak to some of the first years. You wondered, for one short moment, if you should try and talk to him.

Nah.

You swallowed, turning around to walk towards whoever had called your name. If you spent any more time standing still, you might not be able to hold back the tears.

You felt a tug on your sleeve, pulling you downwards.

“Oi.”

You’d know that voice anywhere. “You’re so rude.” You shot him a glare, straightening yourself out.

Things had mellowed out a little since that day behind the gym. You wouldn’t go so far as to say you were friends; he was still abrasive, and you were still struck by the urge to punch him in the face whenever he came into your field of vision.

But his words had been a little gentler. Insults abounded, but he seemed a bit more mindful. Like he was checking your mood before pushing your buttons.

Or maybe you were just imagining it. Maybe you just wanted that weird little moment between the two of you to mean something.

“What do you want, Miya?” You sighed, after a long silence.

He’d just been standing there, completely silent. He hadn’t even bit back. His lips were pursed as he stared at nothing in particular. _What an earth is he thinking about?_ You wondered.

Then, finally, he looked at you. “Wanna live together?”

You froze. Why was he so… like this? “Excuse me?”

He shrugged, hands in his pockets and an obnoxiously bored look on his face. “That’s easier than findin’ a roommate, right? We already know each other, and we’ll both be in Tokyo.”

No congratulations. No words of kindness. Nothing. Just straight to business. You weren’t sure if that or the offer he’d just made was more baffling.

You bit your lip. Could there be anything worse than living with this fool? Maybe you could end up with a shitty roommate – but he’d also be a shitty roommate. How much worse could a total stranger _be_?

“Hey. Dickhead.”

You jumped, looking up to meet his eyes. “Oh, uh… Let me think about it.”

“'Kay.”

And then, he was gone.

'Kay? _'Kay_? That’s all he’d had to say to you? After asking you to _live_ with him? How’d he even come up with that idea? Had Osamu told him to do it? Oh, maybe it was his parents. They were quite fond of you, after all. Perhaps they thought you could keep their son in line or something.

But that wasn’t your responsibility! You didn’t _want_ it to be your responsibility! 

You shook your head. No, you weren’t going to let this dominate your thoughts. You would worry about Atsumu later. For now, you just had to focus on getting through the rest of today.

——–

Your reasons for living with Miya Atsumu were simple.

One: you’d avoid each other. Surely, even if you were in the same apartment, you’d give each other a wide enough berth to ensure some sense of privacy.

Two: you could live like an absolute pig and it wouldn’t matter. Who cared if you didn’t do your dishes that evening? It only affected him. And fuck him.

Three: you’d heard one too many horror stories about friendships being torn to pieces because of shit like this. You didn’t want to risk that.

Four: you didn’t want to live with a stranger.

Simple as that.

And those were the four reasons you’d told Osamu, in a paltry attempt to justify yourself. He’d been sceptical, of course – and he’d said, without an ounce of goodwill, “you don’t know just how bad he is to live with” – but he hadn’t tried to stop you.

But one semester was already over and done with. And things were _fine_.

Honestly, you were still surprised that he’d even asked this of you. But, his reasons were his own, and frankly, you didn’t care what they were.

Yes, he lived like a pig. And God, you’d heard him in bed one too many times because _apparently_ he doesn’t know how to be quiet.

“It’s not my fault you’re not gettin’ any,” he’d say. You always wanted to bite back and say that you were getting more than enough, thank you very much. You were just polite enough to be _quiet_. But, you always decided – quite wisely – that it wasn’t an argument worth getting into.

But, there’s something about the freedom of simply not caring if your roommate would get mad at you for some stupid mistake that made it all worth it. You were _allowed_ to fuck up, to make all those silly mistakes every did in that transitory stage from high school to adulthood. Nothing you could do would ruin an important friendship.

You got to learn how to be a decent person without the consequences.

“Would ya mind if I had some friends over?”

Believe it or not, but this was a big step for him. A few weeks ago, and he would’ve just brought them over, your feelings be damned.

“When?”

“Thursday evenin’.”

“What for?”

“Just catchin’ up,” he shrugged.

“Is this you asking me if I’m okay with it, or is it you asking me to get out of the house?” You raised an eyebrow at him, stirring your tea.

He flashed you a grin.

You rolled your eyes. “Really?”

“Come on,” he propped his chin up on his fist, beaming at you from across the kitchen counter. “Surely, you don’t wanna be around when there’s a buncha guys in the apartment. Do you?”

“So you’re going to bring them over regardless of what I say?”

Nevermind. This wasn’t a step for him at all.

“Essentially,” he shrugged.

You groaned, lolling your head back.

“Can’t you just go to the library or somethin’?” He pouted.

“I don’t have any assignments to work on,” you frowned. “It’s literally only week two.”

“Aren’t you always tellin’ me it’s better to get ahead early?” He raised an eyebrow at him.

You narrowed your eyes at him, biting the inside of your cheek. “Week two’s overkill.”

“Well, just… do your weekly readings or somethin’.”

“I’d rather do them from the comfort of my own bed.”

Atsumu groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I already told 'em they could come over.”

Oh, you were _so_ ready to throttle him.

“Can’t you just… make yourself busy?” He shrugged. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or anythin’.”

“You should’ve thought about that _before_ inviting them over,” you growled. “Shit, what are you planning on getting up to, anyway?”

He shrugged. “It’ll just stress you out.”

“Miya, what the _fuck_ –”

“One of the guys thinks you’re hot.”

You blinked. He really knew how to be blunt, didn’t he?

“And?”

“I can’t promise he won’t try'n hit on you.”

“Yeah, and?”

Atsumu shrugged. “I dunno. I just… thought you might be a bit uncomfortable with that.”

“How does he even know what I look like?”

“I showed 'em a photo.”

Oh God. Of course he did.

“Why on _earth_ would you do that?”

“I mentioned that my roommate’s a chick. They wanted to see.”

“Miya,” you sighed, gripping your own hair. “What – and I cannot stress this enough – the _fuck_?”

“It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time,” he tilted his head at you, smiling. “I mean, I’m just as surprised at you that someone finds you attractive–”

“Shut up.”

“– but I just thought you should know. Clear things up before they get too awkward, you know?”

No, you didn’t.

But, you didn’t really want to have this conversation anymore.

“Fine,” you sighed, turning to pour the rest of your tea down the sink. For some reason, you didn’t really want it anymore. “I’ll find something to do.”

Shouldn’t be too hard. Maybe a bar or a pub would have a student’s night. Maybe one of your friends would be free. There was always

“I owe you one,” Atsumu grinned. You had half a mind to knock his teeth out then and there.

“You really do,” you sighed, rinsing your cup out.

“Already got something in mind.”

“Sounds like there’s a catch,” you mumbled, looking over your shoulder at him.

“No catch,” he held his hands up, giving you what you assumed was his best smile.

“Has anyone ever told you you’ve got an untrustworthy face, Miya?”

“All the time,” he grinned. “Nah, but really. No catch.”

You titled your head at him, waiting for a proposal of some kind.

“I’ll buy you pizza.”

You scoffed. “Really? That’s your consolation?”

“I’ll get you the expensive shit,” he shrugged. “Friday night. Promise.”

“Can you even afford anything that’s not from the cheapskate menu?”

“Can you?”

You shrugged at that one.

“Nah, I promise, it’ll be good,” he sighed. “I’ll make it worth it, 'kay?”

——–

Friday nights were for Atsumu.

You weren’t quite sure how it started. Something to do with him being exhausted from volleyball practice. Something to do with you being exhausted from university. Something else about how neither of you had any energy left to go out and socialise.

Whatever it was, you’d settled into a comfortable rhythm. Friday night, pizza, and a shitty movie.

These days, you actually liked having him around. Not that you were going to admit to it, though. No, you’d rather die than do anything like that.

You weren’t quite sure why you’d suddenly adjusted to him. Was it because you’d known him for so long? Even if he was an absolute nuisance, he was familiar. Someone you could be a goblin around, without having to worry about him wanting to end your friendship over it. No, you’d been involved with each other far too long for that.

And honestly, it was kind of nice to have someone to relax around. While you’d managed to find some people you clicked with at university… making friends was _hard_. There was no-one you could be an absolute pig with yet.

So, Atsumu would do for now.

You’d just finished watching Neil Breen’s _Fateful Findings_. It had been surprisingly easy to find a copy with Japanese subtitles; that being said, you didn’t feel it had given you any clarity as to what was actually going on. Atsumu had loved it, though. He’d already tried throwing some of the quotes back at you. That was sure to make him harder to live with for at least the next week or two.

“Wanna play Smash?” He was sprawled out on the couch, looking at you with a painfully cocky expression.

“Absolutely not.”

“Worried I’ll beat your ass again?” Did he have to smirk after every second thing he said?

You glared at him. “Wanna say that to my face?”

He grinned, turning to face you head on. “Worried I’ll beat your ass again?”

“I was having an off day,” you mumbled.

“Wanna prove that, or…”

You bit the inside of your cheek. If you _did_ play, there were two possible outcomes. The first was that you won. If you won, it’d shut him up, and you could go on with your pride more or less intact. The second was that you lost. And you weren’t quite sure if you could handle his ego.

“I’ll prove it to you right now,” you snapped. “On this couch, with my fists.”

He blinked at you.

“You’re going down for good, Miya.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I’m gonna make you squirm like the worm you are.”

He laughed. A real, genuine laugh. The sort that relieved all tension from his body, erasing any hint of his usual insufferable expression.

He was actually kind of handsome.

You’d always known he had a nice body – you weren’t _blind_ , you were just too proud to admit it. And it’d gotten even nicer since graduation. Practice paid off, it seemed.

And there was something appealing about his relaxed air. About how he didn’t seem to take life too seriously. It almost made him enjoyable to be around. 

Maybe that’s why so many girls were interested in him.

 _Wait_ , no. They only liked him because they hadn’t spoken to him yet.

Oh, right. Girls.

Something shifted in your chest. Something you had never noticed before. Something so quiet, so understated that you hadn’t even realised it had made its way in there.

 _Oh God_ , you thought, _what the fuck is happening to me?_

Whatever it was, you didn’t like it.

Miya Atsumu was hot. That, unfortunately, was a fact you were now uncomfortably aware of.

“Oi.” A hand was being waved in front of your face. You jumped. “Pay attention, you pig.”

Oh, nope. There he was. There’s the Atsumu you were used to.

“You’re a fucking bastard,” you mumbled, shrinking into yourself.

You’re weren’t quite sure what you were saying. You’d just flicked onto autopilot. But you knew that your words were comfortable, familiar. Little insults that a child would throw around. Anything to stave off whatever that weird stirring in your stomach was.

——–

In many ways, realising Miya Atsumu was actually kind of hot ruined your life.

Were you being over-dramatic? Probably. But had things _changed_? Definitely. To a large extent, it was on you; glances stolen when he wasn’t looking, your mind wandering to places it really shouldn’t.

But he’d been acting up, too; standing _far_ too close to you when you were in the kitchen – close enough that you could feel his chest against your back, reaching over your head to grab a cup while damn-near draping his body over you, walking around without a shirt on in the common area…

One time, when you’d dressed up all nice for a friend’s birthday, he’d brazenly checked you out. He hadn’t said anything – he’d just stared. When you asked him what was wrong, he just shrugged and told you to have fun. And, of course, he’d smirked at you. You’d been ready and willing to kill him. 

Whenever you were on the couch, he always seemed to reach over you and take the remote himself instead of simply asking you to hand it to him. And sure, that wasn’t all too weird – but he tended to get _really_ close, and catch your eye for just a moment with that little smirk on his lips. Each and every time, you felt like you were going to explode.

You’d taken to sticking pillows between you on the couch, because you wouldn’t be surprised if he decided to lay his head on your lap or some shit on a whim.

Maybe he _was_ messing with you, but this sort of behaviour wasn’t totally _un_ -Atsumu. You’d seen him act like this with people before. It’s just that you two had never really been close enough to warrant it. Was it just a symptom of the fact that you guys were kind of friends now? Was he just treating you like everyone else?

But some part of you was even _angrier_ at that. You didn’t _want_ to be treated like everyone else.

God, you felt stupid for even feeling like that. Especially when you’d had an awkward morning chat with a few of his bedfellows – where each and every time, you couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that he was punching so far above his weight. How on _earth_ were people _this_ beautiful paying attention to him?

That was starting to make more and more sense recently.

You tried not to think about it.

But that was getting harder and harder to you. You’d been kind of lonely. Some quiet part of you wanted a serious relationship; someone to come home to of an evening, to relax and unwind with. You’d even been actively looking. Not that you were about to admit that to anyone.

But men are shit. _Especially_ ones in their early twenties.

But as resolutely as you believed that, there you were, preparing for yet another date. You’d have a particularly messy string of disasters recently; men who did little more than stare at your tits, men who had nothing interesting to say, men who thought that being an asshole was a personality…

Tonight, you hoped, would be different. Sure, you’d met this guy in an econ elective – you’d needed something easy to bring your GPA up – and that certainly wasn’t a point in his favour. But, he’d taken in interest in you, despite the fact you’d never really spoken before. A few months ago, you might’ve turned him down. But _surely_ he’d be better than the drivel Tinder unfailingly turned out.

Only problem was that he wanted to go somewhere chic. Somewhere fancy. Somewhere that was, quite frankly, out of your comfort zone.

“ _Another_ date?” Atsumu scoffed, leaning on the doorframe to the bathroom.

“What’s it to you?” You grumbled, leant in close to the bathroom mirror. You couldn’t get your makeup to look how you wanted it to; everything just seemed a little wonky, a little uneven. And your foundation hadn’t settled nicely into your face. It just sat there, a tacky second skin you just wanted to slough off.

“Nothin’,” Atsumu shrugged. “You’ve just never gone out on a Friday before.”

Oh. That’s right.

You shrugged, biting your cheek. “It’s the only day he could get a reservation.” In truth, you hadn’t even thought about it.

“Same guy as before?”

You shook your head. You couldn’t actually remember the last guy you’d told Atsumu about. The amount of bad dates you’d been on was getting embarrassing. “Nah. This one’s a classy bastard.”

He snorted. “You’re kiddin’, right?”

You shook your head. “I’m going to have to let him pay for the date because I genuinely don’t think I can afford it.”

“Yikes,” he chuckled. “You know, I never really took you for a gold digger.”

You had half a mind to throw your mascara at him. “Shut up.”

“If you keep faffin’, you’ll be late.”

Shit, He was right. You checked your phone. 5:25. You had five minutes to leave. You picked it up and made your way to the door, ready to squeeze past Atsumu. You turned, dashing back to the mirror and poking at your hair.

“Stop worryin’,” he chuckled, waving a hand at you as he began to walk away. “You look nice.”

Those words stuck with you all the way to the restaurant. They were so simple, so innocuous, but… They were touching, coming from him.

And when your date was talking to you about something you simply didn’t find interesting, you couldn’t get that look on Atsumu’s face out of your head.

——–

The date was a veritable disaster. Possibly the worst you’d had in a while.

First of all, the guy was a total asshole. And not just the Atsumu kind – no, this one was _rich_. He’d had his entire life handed to him on a silver platter, and it _showed_. You could tolerate it, at first. But when he’d literally said, “I don’t think the poor should be allowed to vote,” you knew you couldn’t stick around.

Second of all, you couldn’t stop thinking of Atsumu and his damn smirk.

You’d gotten up without even giving your date an explanation. You’d stormed out of the restaurant in a rage, resolute on walking all the way home.

Why did it always turn out this way? The guys were either assholes, or far too self-centred for a proper relationship. If they were neither of those things, there was just no chemistry between the two of you.

God, were _you_ the problem? Were good people just _not_ attracted to you?

What were you supposed to do?

To top it all off, it began to rain when you were just halfway home.

As you slammed the door, you looked as awful as you felt.

Atsumu flinched, sprawled out in front of the television. He sat up a little straighter, looking at you from over the back of the couch.

“Yikes!” He scoffed. “You look like shit!”

Your breath caught in your throat. No. No, you weren’t going to take this from him right now. Not tonight.

“Y'know, you wouldn’t’ve gotten rained off if you’d just stayed in,” he chuckled, propelling himself of the couch and ambling his way over to you. “What a waste…”

He came to a stop in front of you, hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweatpants. He had _that_ look on his face; that insufferable smirk he whipped out whenever he’d beaten you in something menial. That smirk that, in any other circumstance, would’ve made you want to punch him. But tonight, it just made you want to cry.

“You haven’t said anythin’,” he frowned, tilting his head at you. “You okay?”

You wanted to lie. You wanted to tell him that it was fine, that the mascara dappling your cheeks was just the result of the rain.

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t get the words out of your mouth.

You took a deep breath.

You stopped breathing. His arms were around you, pulling you into his chest. It was rough, the embrace of someone who wasn’t used to tenderness. There’s this strange stiffness to it, an admission that he doesn’t really know what he’s doing. But as he rests his head on your chin, you couldn’t be more grateful for his efforts. Your hands found their way to his chest, balled up and tense.

“Hey,” he mumbled, “hey. It’s going to be okay.”

You looked up at him, your throat sore from holding back a sob and eyes stinging from unshed tears.

Maybe it’s because you’re emotional. Or because you’re tired. Or maybe it’s because you’re lonely, and he said a few nice things to you today.

You kissed him.

It’s hot, open-mouthed as your fists grasped his shirt, pulling him down to meet you.

Your head is swimming; what the _fuck_ is happening?

His arms tensed around you, his lips moving to meet yours.

This is what you want. This is what you’ve wanted for a while now. You hadn’t wanted to go on all those shitty dates. You hadn’t wanted to waste your time with men you didn’t care about. What you’d wanted was–

He froze.

So did you.

His hands are holding your forearms firmly as he stepped back, an inscrutable expression on his face.

“No, baby.” He shook his head. “Not like this.”

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.

You flew down the hall, slamming your bedroom door.

You sank to the floor, arms finding their way around your knees. You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want to dignify this evening with that. You weren’t going to pity your own shitty mistakes.

Fuck the date. That wasn’t even the worst part of the night.

You’d just kissed _Miya fucking Atsumu_. Things were finally going okay between the two of you. He’d been treating you like a human being.

And now you’d ruined it.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been one whole week since you’d spoken to Atsumu.

One whole week of artfully dodging him during the day, and finding more and more convoluted excuses to be out of an evening. You’d never been as social in all your months at university as you had been this last week. And the exhaustion was really beginning to

But you just couldn’t face him after that. Not when you couldn’t get how he’d said ‘baby’, all raspy and deep, out of your head. It kept echoing through your mind whenever you tried to sleep at night.

You felt like you were going insane. You just wanted to lie down and let the earth reclaim you.

You couldn’t even talk to Osamu about it. Because it was his damn brother. And because you _knew_ he wouldn’t let you live it down.

But, it was Friday night. You’d spent every single day in the library, and your back was beginning to feel the strain from the shitty seating. You’d spent every single night out of the house, at parties and bars and other people’s couches.

You wanted nothing more than to lie in _your_ bed and do absolutely nothing.

So, that’s what you were doing.

You were tucked under the covers with your phone in hand, the main light of your room off in the hopes that Atsumu would just assume you were out tonight. Again.

_Knock knock._

Maybe if you didn’t say anything, he’d go away.

_Knock knock._

Please go away. _Please_.

He opened the door anyway. Of course he did. Fucking piece of shit.

“You here?”

It really _had_ been a while since you’d heard his voice.

“I can see you, y'know.”

You glared at him through the blankets. Or, at least, you hoped your ire was focused on him.

“I got pizza.”

He sounded so… nonchalant. So unbothered.

You frowned. Was he fine with what happened? How was he not coming apart at the seams, just like you were?

Oh. Because it’s Atsumu.

Were you _stupid?_

“Stop bein’ a lazy ass,” he mumbled. You could hear his footsteps beginning to fade. “Get up.”

You do.

Because, apparently, you did what he told you. When did _that_ happen? And, if you had an opportunity to salvage whatever tentative friendship you had with him, you were going to take it.

By the time you’ve made your way down the hallway, he’s already setting up Netflix.

“C'mere,” he gestured at you from the couch, not even turning around to look at you.

You took a deep breath. If he could get past it, so could you. You _had_ to.

So, somehow, you manage to sit yourself down on that couch and take a piece of pizza. You even manage to stomach a few bites.

But it’s weird. Too weird. The atmosphere's… off. Uncanny. 

Even Atsumu had only managed to finish one piece of pizza. Usually, he’d hoover his way through half of one before you even had time to choose your first piece.

You didn’t know where to look. You should be looking at the screen. But, you’d already seen _Fateful Findings_ before. And of all the films he could’ve chosen, this was the worst. It was after this goddamn film that you’d realised you were actually attracted to him, after all. It just made the atmosphere even more bizarre.

“You look like shit.”

You tensed up, shooting him a look that screamed 'I’m going to fucking _kill_ you.’ _That’s_ how he’s going to start this conversation?

“I didn’t mean it as an _insult_ ,” he mumbled, catching on quicker than usual. “I just mean you look… tired.”

You kept glaring at him.

“Date was that bad, huh?”

You shook your head. Was that what he thought was bothering you? You weren’t about to tell him the reason you’d been like this all week was because of _him_ , but you also weren’t going to let him think you were this cut up over some loser. Even if you technically were.

“Then… what’s wrong?”

It sounds weird, coming from him. He’s not naturally considerate, and you can hear that in his voice. He doesn’t quite phrase it right; it’s a little too rough, a little too commanding. It sounds like part of him doesn’t even want to ask the question. Whether it’s because he’s uninterested, or because he’s afraid of being confronted with raw emotion, you can’t quite tell.

“It doesn’t matter, Miya,” you sighed, sinking back into your corner of the couch.

“You sure?”

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze. You were sure that if you looked him in the eyes, your resolve would crumble.

He fell silent, turning back to the screen. It feels like time is stuck, hovering in one painful moment. He’s still looking at you. You’d do anything to make him stop.

“Did you mean it?” His voice was low. A little gravelly.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye.

“Or were you just lonely?”

 _Oh shit_.

He was staring at you, now – quite brazenly. And he’s laid out on the couch with such effortless charm that it’s _annoying_. He’s not supposed to be so hot – especially not now.

“Well, I–” Your mouth is dry, your words stuck in your throat. “I am… lonely.”

The atmosphere shifted again. Atsumu’s eyes changed, but only slightly. You could only tell because you were paying such close attention to them. Too much attention.

“But…” What the _fuck_ were you doing? “I wouldn’t say I… I didn’t mean it.”

That thought you’d had about fixing your relationship with him? Out the window. You’d _completely_ fucked that up. When did your lease end?

He leaned over, his breath fanning over your cheek as he whispered in your ear. “Then what are you waiting for?”

You’re not sure who moved first.

But you kissed him.

It’s like last time, but _better_. More purposeful. Hungrier.

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, pulling yourself closer to him. He grabbed your hips, pulling you roughly into his lap as his hands moved down to cup your ass. You don’t care; your hands are grasping his hair, _and fuck_ , it just feels good to be kissing _him_ –

You can feel the heat pooling in your stomach, at war with the intense confusion of his moment. You weren’t sure how this had happened. You weren’t sure if it should even _be_ happening. But your mind is hazy. And you’re horny.

Your hands move from his hair and back to his shoulders. He really was broad, huh? And as your hands moved over his muscles, you decided: the shirt has to go.

So it did.

His skin was hot against your touch, and you wondered just how long you could stay lucid. His hands found their way under your shirt, the contact making you shiver. He chuckled. That almost made you want to punch him in the face. Almost.

He broke the kiss, focusing his lips on your neck. You can already tell it’s going to leave marks, but fuck it. It feels too good to stop.

You can feel him pressing against you. First of all – he’s bigger than he deserves to be. And two – you actually want it.

You moaned.

 _Shit_. You wanted to make _him_ moan first.

He laughed. Of course he did. Was this a little competition for him, too?

Didn’t matter. Your shirt had found its way off your body, and Atsumu’s lips had found their way to your chest.

“You’re so hot,” he mumbled, looking from your chest to your face.

“I thought I looked terrible.”

He chuckled, pressing rough kisses to your collarbone.

And while that’s all well and good, you want _more_. You’re going to go crazy, feeling him like this and getting nowhere.

You bucked your hips – just a little, just tentatively – to see what he’d do.

And _holy fuck_ , his moan. You wanted to hear that again. You’d give anything to hear that right in your ear.

He paused, lifting his head and pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your neck. “Is this what you want?”

“Unfortunately,” you mumbled, your grip on his shoulders tightening.

He chuckled against your neck. “You’re gonna have to be more straightforward than that.”

You bucked your hips again. “Is that enough?”

You weren’t about to tell him you wanted him to fuck you. He didn’t deserve that – yet. Saying it out loud would make it too real.

Next thing you know, he’s picked you up, one hand on your ass and one wrapped around your waist as you locked your legs around him. It was actually going to happen.

And as you lay there in his bed, sweaty and exhausted but _satisfied,_ you wondered if you’d regret it in the morning.

——–

You’d fully expected him to kick you out of bed that first morning. Dreading it, actually.

But he hadn’t. Instead, you’d just had sex again.

And then the next day.

And the day after that.

The momentum slowed down a bit after that, but hooking up quickly became part of your weekly routine.

And honestly? You couldn’t be more grateful. For one thing, it was convenient. No more putting up with bad dates, no more having to worry about prettying yourself up for someone. You could literally just walk into his room and start making out. He was ready to go most days, unromantic and blunt as your initiations were.

He’s gross. He’s vulgar. He’s by no means the college boyfriend you’d dreamed up in high school.

But he was comfortable. And honest. And he knew how to make you feel good.

So, when your friend texted you about this guy she thought was just _perfect_ for you, you were reticent. More reticent than perhaps was reasonable.

This guy was smart. Respectful. He was a STEM major. And, he wasn’t bad-looking. If anything, he was quite handsome

You stared at your texts, frown creasing your face. Atsumu’s head was lying against your boobs – one of his favourite positions to be in, apparently.

It wasn’t that you were hiding your phone screen from him. It was just that you didn’t want him to see these texts. They _could_ start a conversation you didn’t want to have.

You’re not dating. That’s never been part of the equation – or left out of it, either. But that was another matter. You just knew that, on your end, what you’ve been pretty exclusive. And, he hadn’t really had anyone over to hook up with either. You couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t getting up to something when he wasn’t home, but still.

The idea of going on a date with someone felt… iffy. You bit your lip. Should you talk to him about it? Was it weird to bring it up?

He was rambling about something. You’d only been half paying attention. All you caught were the words 'fuckin’ idiots.’

“Talking about yourself?” You smiled, locking your phone.

“Are you even listenin’ to me?” He scoffed, raising his head to look at you

You stuck your tongue out at him, but it’s half-hearted.

He looked at your face for a second. Then, he sat up with a frown. And he began to _stroke your hair._ No matter what, Atsumu always seemed to find a way to surprise you.

“You okay, baby?” He asked, voice soft as he tilted his head at you.

“I’m fine,” you smiled up at him, a little touched by the look on his face.

“You sure?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, placing your phone on the beside table.

He bit the inside of his cheek, his brow deeply furrowed. “Y'know, if you… if you need someone to talk to, I… I…”

“You don’t have to,” you swallowed, reaching over to take his hand. Frankly, this was _weird_. But you didn’t dislike it.

“I know, but… but the offers there,” he shrugged, giving your hand a little squeeze. “If you need it.”

“Thanks, 'Tsumu.”

You both paused, gazing at each other for a moment. He smiled. You’d only started calling him by that name recently. He was still adjusting to it.

He slid back into a lying position, wrapping his arms around your waist and drawing you into him. He nestled his face in the crook of your neck, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin there. “Can’t promise it’ll be much help. But you can yell at me, if you need it. I’m good for that, at least.”

A few hours later, you texted your friend, saying you didn’t really have the time to date someone.

It was only half true.

—–

“'Samu’s comin’ to visit.”

“I know.”

Why he was bringing this up now, at one in the morning, while you lying in his bed, both quite naked and sweaty, he didn’t know.

“Are we… are we gonna tell him?” He asked, drawing back from your embrace to get a good look at your face. 

“Well… he doesn’t have to know, does he?” you frowned, looking up at him. You were nestled into his chest, his arms wrapped tight around you.

Atsumu opened his mouth to respond, but for once he was struck speechless. “I mean… well… y'know… what if you find your way into my bed while he’s here?”

You laughed. “You really think my self-control is _that_ poor? Wow, 'Tsumu–”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I just… well, I’m assumin’ you haven’t told him about… about this.”

“I haven’t.”

“Me neither,” he swallowed, eyes cast downwards.

“Stop looking at my boobs.”

“I’m not!” He sighed, releasing you and rolling onto his back. You missed his warmth already. “What if he thinks I’m messin’ with you?”

“Huh?” Well, that was a very sudden question.

“What if ‘Samu thinks I’m… I’m treating you badly? Like… takin’ advantage of you?” He swallowed, daring to look at you. “Is that… is that how you see this? See us?”

You blinked at him. Atsumu was always blunt. And, as always, he was bad at timing.

But he’d used ‘us’. You didn’t know what to think about that.

“I don’t quite understand.” You bit your lip, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Well, do you feel like I’m messin’ with you?”

"No.”

Your answer was resolute.

“Really?” His eyes shone a little at that.

You shrugged. “I know what i’m doing, 'Tsumu. My choices are my own, you know?” you scooted a little closer to him, leaning in and giving him a quick peck on his nose. “if I didn’t want this, I’d just stop.”

His eyes are wide as he looked at you. Had you said something wrong? Was he going to ask you to leave, or–

“Hey,” he mumbled, running a hand down your side. “I never said sorry, did I?”

“Huh?” You frowned.

“For bein’ such a dick,” he swallowed. “When we were kids. And when we were in high school, I guess.”

“Are you _apologizing_?” Oh. Oh this was too much.

“I guess I am.”

“Is this just because I let you stick your dick in me?”

He pinched your butt.

“Ow!”

“You make me sound like such a dick sometimes,” he said. But, he was smiling as he looked at your face. There was something so… unusual in his face. Something soft. Something fond. You’re not used to it. You want to ask him about it – but he wrapped his arms around you, nestling his head in your chest.

Whatever it was, you could tell he didn’t really want to talk about it right now. That moment there, small as it was, seemed like it was a push past his limits. Any further than that, and he might break.

But you know, even from that scant exchange, that you feel the same way he does. Whatever it is.

So, you’ll give him an out. It’s the polite thing to do.

“You just wanna put your face in my boobs, don’t you?”

“Stop making’ me sound like a perv,” he mumbled. “But yeah.”

——–

Osamu’s visit had been something of a revelation.

You’d resolved to keep your ‘involvement’ with Atsumu a secret; there’d be too much to discuss with Osamu, should he find out. And, you were sure, plenty of warnings about his brother. Most pertinently, though, he’d just call you a dumbass. So, you were intent on keeping your mouth shut.

Atsumu seemed like he’d prefer it that way, too. He hadn’t brought the topic up since that night; and you hoped he wouldn’t say anything without consulting you first.

Keeping your mouth shut was easy.

Abstaining from touching him was a lot harder than you’d expected.

You’d never paid acts of casual affection much mind before. But now, all you could think about was the way his hands would brush against your waist whenever you were in the kitchen, or the way he’d play with your hair when you were just having a conversation on the couch, or the way he’d draw patterns on your thigh with one of his fingers while you were studying.

It’d only been _three days_ , and you missed it.

Atsumu was getting antsy, too. Bopping his leg almost aggressively while the three of you sat on the couch, staring at you with absolutely no regard for propriety at any given moment, sending you less than appropriate texts at one in the morning.

 _He’s sleeping on the couch anyway_ , one of the more tame ones had read. _He won’t hear anything. Promise._

You’d refused nonetheless – even though the offer was tempting. You just wanted to be close to him again.

But this week was supposed to be about Osamu. You know – one of your closest friends? You felt like a real piece of shit for being preoccupied with his twin brother.

“Did somethin’ happen between you and ‘Tsumu?”

You froze. Tonight was supposed to be a causal evening on the couch, watching Ghibli movies. Atsumu was out for practice, and you thought it would be a good opportunity to catch up on all the stuff that Osamu didn’t want to discuss with his brother around. In other words, you’d had plans to pry into his love life.

You hadn’t expected for him to get the jump on you.

“Why do you ask?” You hummed, hoping to every force in the universe that you were playing it cool.

Osamu shrugged. “I dunno. He’s actin’ weird.”

You frowned. “How so?”

“It’s like he keeps tryna get your attention or somethin’.” He was peering at you out the corner of his eye. If anyone could make you crack under the pressure, it’d be Osamu.

But there was no way you were about to discuss this with him. None at all.

You shrugged, biting the inside of your cheek and staring at the screen. Your brain decided to remind you at that exact moment that this couch was where it had all started.

Oh, too late. You could already feel your cheeks flaring up.

“I’m not tryin’ to make you uncomfortable or anythin’,” Osamu mumbled. “It’s just kinda weird seein’ my brother actin’ like he’s got a schoolboy crush.”

“Excuse me, _what_?”

You’d been ready for him to say something about Atsumu being a perv, or maybe a fuckboy, or something else of that ilk. You’d not expected him to say _that_.

Osamu raised his eyebrows at you. “Dude, you live with him. And I know you’re not dense. How’ve you not noticed?”

Once again, one of the Miya brothers had thrown you through a loop. What a concerning trend that was.

“I mean, I—” What were you even supposed to _say_ to that? Of course, you knew Atsumu was attracted to you. Debatably. But you still didn’t know what your relationship actually _was_. Friends-with-benefits was the easiest moniker, all things considered, but Atsumu was always so damn confusing.

There were moments of tenderness. And those were becoming more and more frequent. But you’d never been confident enough to read them as anything deeper; even when they made you feel like your heart was about to give out.

And yes, acting like you weren’t involved was obviously bothering both of you. But you didn’t want to bring it up. You didn’t want to shatter this delicate thing you shared.

“Are you leadin’ him on?”

 _What?_ Your head snapped round, staring at Osamu with wide eyes. “Where did that come from?”

Osamu grinned. An aggravatingly knowing grin. “He talks about you all the time, y’know.”

He _what_?

“Somehow he always finds a way to mention you when he calls,” Osamu sighed, the corners of his lips quirked up. “I don’t think he even realises he’s doin’ it.”

You mouth hung open a little, fishing for literally anything to say. It wasn’t all that shocking of a statement.

But, it meant that Atsumu actually thought about you. Talked about you. You were relevant enough to him for Osamu to hear about it. For him to have _suspicions_.

The front door opened with a thump.

You flinched, one hand flying to your chest as you looked over the back of the couch.

“Oi,” Atsumu breathed, hair askew and face flushed as he began to take off his shoes. How did he manage to make exhaustion look _hot_? “Hey ‘Samu, why isn’t dinner ready?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Osamu grunted, getting to his feet.

“Hey, you promised—”

“I know,” Osamu waved a hand at him. “You just don’t have to be so rude.”

You took a deep breath. The good news was that your conversation with Osamu was over – for now. Your new challenge would be maintaining normalcy with Atsumu.

It’d be fine. You’d been acting like civil acquaintances for the past three days. Well, you had, at least. Tonight had illuminated the fact that his performance truly left something to be desired.

“Hey,” Atsumu mumbled, suddenly behind the couch.

You swallowed, turning to turn around to get a good look at him. “How was practice—”

He flopped onto the couch, paying no mind to the fact that you were currently on it.

“Hey!” You huffed, nudging him with your elbow. He barely moved, eyes closed and a contented smile on his face as he lay against you.

You could feel Osamu’s eyes on the back of your head. Was is possible for your face to feel any hotter? Chances were slim.

“Bad day?” You asked, trying to play this off. Although, if Osamu thought you were leading Atsumu on before, well…

“The worst,” Atsumu mumbled, shifting around until his head was in your lap. “can you scratch my head, please?” One of his hands was patting around your lap, searching for a stray wrist.

“Uh, sure.”

Osamu’s words rang through your mind. Were you leading him on?

That would imply an emotional investment. And you’d never really spoken about the whole ‘feelings’ thing. Hell, you hadn’t even established any rules or guidelines to your situation. You’d just sort of… started behaving like this. And maybe that was on you for being so irresponsible, but it made this… more confusing. Harder to parse.

And honestly, you’d figured Atsumu wouldn’t really _want_ to talk about the whole feelings thing. He’d never given you that vibe.

But how were you supposed to contend with that fondness? With the fact that your relationship didn’t have distinct boundaries? With the fact that you wouldn’t even mind if it _was_ romantic? How were you supposed to breach that topic with him? And, did it make you a bad person for keeping this to yourself? 

You swallowed, biting your lip. You were going to give yourself a stroke, thinking about all this.

—–

“C’mon.”

You were sat at the kitchen table, laptop open at one thirty in the morning. Sure, your essay wasn’t due for another two days, but you wanted as little left as possible to polish up for tomorrow. “Five more minutes, ‘Tsumu,” you sighed.

For whatever reason, he was still up with you, head laid on the table and one hand on your thigh. He’d been this… present ever since Osamu had left four days ago. Not that you minded.

“But I’m tired, baby,” he mumbled.

“Well, so am I,” ****you muttered, peering at your screen. The words were beginning to all meld together. It was giving you a headache.

“ _Baby_ —”

“Just go to bed by yourself.”

“Don’t wanna.”

You rolled your eyes. “Why not?”

“’s lonely. And cold.”

You bit back a smile. “You’ll survive.”

“You’re not gonna get any decent work done at this time of night,” he yawned, squeezing your thigh gently.

You sighed, turning to face him. His hand slipped between your legs. He didn’t bother moving it.

“What?” He mumbled, cheek smooshed against the table.

“You’re really clingy.”

“Am not.” He frowned at you, but it looked rather more like a pout.

“I’ve plenty of proof to the contrary,” you sighed, reaching over and running your fingers through his hair.

He closed his eyes, smiling. “That feels nice.”

“I know,” you said. “You keep asking me to do it.”

He mumbled something in response; probably a lame comeback of some kind. It didn’t really matter. 

You really were fond of him. Even just looking at him like _this_ , laid out on a table while all sleepy was enough to make you want to shower him with affection. 

What had happened to you? You imagined, for a moment, explaining this to your high school self. You’re sure young you would deck you in the face. But, apparently the universe was playing one grand joke on you. 

“Hey… ‘Tsumu?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Do you ever feel like…” You really, really didn’t want to do this. But, it felt fair. “Do you ever feel like I’m leading you on?”

He opened one eye. “Huh? Where’s this comin’ from?”

“It’s something ‘Samu said,” you mumbled. “He said it seems like…” The moment was hazy in your mind, and you couldn’t quite pick out the details properly. Especially this early in the morning. “Well, it’s just something that came up.”

“How’d you be leadin’ me on?” ****

Alright, that was a decent enough question. “I… I dunno.”

“Does he know about us?”

“I don’t think so,” you swallowed. “Unless you said something to him.”

Atsumu grunted. “I haven’t. Don’t worry.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, frowning. “Well, he thought something was going on.”

“Somethin’ is goin’ on.”

“I guess.”

Everything was so certain in his world. So straightforward.

You just wished he could put those things into words.

“Uh… ‘Tsumu?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you been… seeing anyone else?” You asked. He’d given you no reason to suspect it, and you certainly had no right to be angry. You’d never called this thing exclusive, after all.

“Nah,” he sat up properly, dragging his chair closer to you. “Just you.”

You hated how light that made your heart.

“And…” He swallowed, eyes bright in the dim light of your kitchen. You’d have to remember to ask him to change the bulb in the morning. “I don’t wanna be involved with anyone else.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

It had dawned on you, not without a hint of terror, that you hadn’t really thought about other guys since you’d gotten involved with Atsumu. The two of you weren’t even dating. Not officially. You hadn’t even told anyone that you two had some kind of thing going.

But, other guys just didn’t measure up. It was an entertaining, if strange, thought; apparently, the person you’d been hoping for this entire time was Atsumu. The person you felt most yourself with, most at home with, was _him_.

And, you knew he felt the same. He didn’t say it; you weren’t sure if he had the words for it. But you knew, in all the little ways he showed it. In the way you were allowed to see his insecurities. In the way he held you close to him in the mornings, breath fanning against your neck. In the way he smiled at you when you walked through the front door.

Whatever was going on between the two of you was bigger than you’d anticipated. And you wondered, then, if it was going to end. And if so, how.

“C’mon,” he sighed, standing up. “You needa get some sleep. Otherwise your brain’s not gonna work right.”

“Atsumu—”

But one arm was already around your waist, the other under your knees.

“Wait, wait!” You huffed, looping one arm around his neck as he lifted you up to his chest. “Let me close my laptop.”

“Fine. And then we’re goin’ to _sleep_.”

And as you lay there in his bed, his arms wrapped around your waist and the ghost of a kiss pressed to your neck, you finally accepted that you didn’t want things to change. 

—–

“Hey.”

He was laid out on his back, staring at the roof.

“Yeah?” You reached out and took his hand absentmindedly.

“Do you… do you wanna keep livin’ together?” His voice was so little, so apprehensive.

Yikes.

“What, when we finish uni?” You blinked, suddenly wide awake. You’d never had this conversation before. And the timing… the timing was strange. But, Atsumu had never been very good at that. Even a year in. 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I got scouted, so I’m stayin’ in Tokyo, but…”

Right. His volleyball career was really taking off, wasn’t it? You couldn’t have been more proud of him. You’d even found the courage to tell him that. Several times, in fact.

“I don’t know what I’m doing after uni,” you mumbled, eyes trained on his face.

“Right,” he nodded. “But, if you were stayin’ in Tokyo, would you…”

“I can’t give you a definitive answer.”

“I know,” he sighed, still staring at the ceiling. “I’m just… puttin’ it out there.”

You bit your lip. There was a gulf, here. In between what he wanted to say and what he actually was putting into words. You could tell. But, there was something else. Something more important.

He wanted to be honest with you.

“Isn’t it a pretty big commitment?” You asked, eyes scouring his face. “Are you sure you're… you’re ready for that?”

"I’m not askin’ ya to marry me,” he chuckled, giving your hand a little squeeze.

You bit your lip. “I know, it’s just…” You sighed, closing your eyes. “What’s going on between us?”

“Somethin’ that makes sense.”

It was the question you’d never wanted to ask. The question you’d feared for how complicated the answer would be. But, he’d responded with something so confident, so curt, that it made you wonder what you were afraid of in the first place.

As always, he didn’t hesitate where it mattered.

“I like us,” he swallowed, rolling over to look at you. Holy shit. He was _scared_. “I like… what we have goin’, and… I like you, and… and I wanna keep… being like this. With you.”

You weren’t ready for what that did to your heart. You didn’t know how you were supposed to put it into words. So, you kept it simple. “I like us, too.”

He laced his fingers with yours, the slightest tremble in his hand. “I know I’m not… what you wanted, but… I don’t want this to end.”

That was massive for him. You knew that. You _felt_ that. And, you weren’t going to ask any more of him, just yet.

You leaned in and kissed him, just a gentle, close-mouthed kiss. Loaded with affection and nothing else.

“We’ll work it out,” you smiled. “And… I’ll stay with you. Promise.”

You’d never seen Atsumu smile as brightly as he did in that moment.

You still weren’t sure how you’d gotten here. How years of bickering had culminated in this.

And yet, it was one of the best things that had ever happened to you. _He_ was one of the best things that had ever happened with you.

And maybe, just maybe, that kid you’d hated so much would be the man you’d spend the rest of your life with.


	3. epilogue

You weren’t doing anything special. You were just standing in the kitchen, cutting up an apple.

There wasn’t anything special about the time of day, either. It wasn’t golden hour, or dawn, or any hour considered beautiful. It was just lunchtime.

And yet, Atsumu couldn’t look away.

He watched you from his place on the couch, eyes peeking over the back.

Sometimes, he couldn’t believe that you were still with him. That you were still part of his life. Maybe things shouldn’t have worked out the way they had. Maybe there should’ve been more consequences.

But by some stroke of luck, you were still together. Properly.

And Atsumu wouldn’t want it any other way. You were the only thing he wanted to come back to at the end of a long day. Tokyo wasn’t his home; you were.

He knew that if you weren’t with him, Tokyo would feel a lot more lonely. Perhaps even a little lifeless, even though the city teemed with the light of so many people.

He raised his eyebrows slightly as the realisation hit him.

He’d feel incomplete with you.

Not necessarily half a person; Atsumu knew that if he had to go alone, he could manage it. He’d never really cared about the opinion of anyone but his brother. And now, of course, you. 

But you were part of him, now. Part of who he’d become.

And no matter what’s to come, that would stick with him. You’re stitched into the fibres of his heart.

You’ve been nothing but patient with him. Sure, the two of you had a rocky start during your childhood, and he’d taken much too long to smooth that out.

But ever since he’d tried, you’d been so patient. So gentle. But it’s not that you’re too soft. No. You’d just given him the space to understand himself. To work out, at his own pace, how he really felt.

But you could – and would – stick up for yourself. And you’ve never, ever been afraid to give him a piece of your mind.

As he looked at you, standing in the kitchen during lunchtime as you cut up an apple, Atsumu knew he couldn’t hold it in anymore. His heart is too heavy, too hot for his chest. A certain set of words burned on his tongue, begging, praying, imploring him to let them free. Words he hadn’t yet found the courage to say.

He heaved himself off the couch, ambling towards the kitchen counter.

You looked up from your apple and stuck your tongue out at him.

He chuckled, cloaking you with his body and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Oi,” he mumbled, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“Mm?” You tried to turn around to look at him, but his arms were firm around your waist, rooting you to the spot.

“I love you.”

It was like the earth itself had come to a gentle stop in that moment.

You froze, your heart hammering in your chest.

He’d never said that before.

Part of you felt like he never would. Another part of you had expected him to say it in a much grander way, at a much more romantic moment.

But, that wouldn’t have been very _him_ , would it?

Atsumu wasn’t the sort of person concerned with romance or spectacle. He was straightforward, carefree, unbound by the expectations of others.

And those qualities, annoying as they could be sometimes, were part of the reason that you adored him as much as you did.

“I love you too, ‘Tsumu,” you said, smiling to yourself. You’d been keeping those words locked inside your heart for so long now, fearing that they would drive him away.

“You better,” he mumbled against your neck.

His cheeks were burning. You couldn’t see it because he’d made damn sure you couldn’t.

He wasn’t used to _this_ kind of intimacy. Physical affection, sex, compliments veiled with teasing… that was his realm. Those were the languages he spoke fluently. But this? Being this frank with his words. He counted himself as an honest person – most of the time – but this was something new. Something that scared him just as much as it excited him.

But it was the truth. He loved you. A lot. He’d kept that truth close to his chest, as it grew bigger and bigger. So big that it felt like it would break his ribs.

But you’d said it back.

You felt it, too.

“I didn’t expect you to be so sappy today,” you teased, trying to fill the silence. You could guess what was going through his mind with ease, and this was the closest thing to reprieve you could offer. A joke. A tease.

“Don’t get used to it.” His words are a little gruff, quick and rough as his statements usually are.

But you could feel him smiling against your neck.

**Author's Note:**

> cross-posted to other platforms!


End file.
